A Law & Order Fic-mas Carol
by snarkhunter
Summary: Dick Wolf Bless Us, Every One!


A Law & Order Fic-mas Carol

By jael

Disclaimer: Dick Wolf et. al owns 'em. I just hopped the fence and am playing in his universe. 

Revised 12/24/02.

Further author's notes at the end.

***

On Christmas Eve day, Manhattan Executive Assistant District Attorney Jack McCoy sat in his office, simmering with rage that the courts would be closed the next day. His assistant, Jamie Ross, who had come back to work for him after his last assistant had had a nervous breakdown and disappeared (not that anyone noticed she was gone for a good three days; only when Jack realized that he had lost his echo did he search for a replacement, but the only person who was willing to work for him was Jamie, who liked him anyway and didn't really mind his behavior, since, after all, he'd never tried to sleep with her), glared at him whenever she came into his office to drop off a file.

She was supposed to have had Christmas Eve off, but because Jack had forced her to work, her daughter would be spending Christmas Eve and most of Christmas Day with her father (whose attempts to poison his daughter against her mother were actually only one tiny aspect of his overall plan for an ascent to political power culminating in the possession of the highest office in any land—he intended to become the first non-Catholic American Pope). Now Jamie would spend Christmas Eve home alone with only her husband for company, and Jamie didn't like to admit that he was a bit dull.

At 6:00 p.m. on the dot, Nora, the District Attorney and Jack's boss for the last three years, came bouncing through the door to his office. 

"Merry Christmas, Jack!" she chirped, planting a furry red Santa hat square on his head. 

"I'm busy," Jack grunted. (Nora never minded that Jack was rude to her. She loved Jack. She loved holidays. She liked to tell her staff that they were "gifted attorneys," because it was one of the few phrases that she knew. Her other favorite phrase was "you're right," but she only used that one in reference to Jack.)

"Come to my house for a Christmas party tomorrow!" Nora said, practically dancing in her glee at it's being Christmas.

"I haven't got time for Christmas. Christmas is just one more meaningless holiday," Jack replied, glaring over his formidable beaky nose.

"Why, Jack! Christmas isn't meaningless! Christmas is a time for love and joy and happiness and understanding. It's a time for wreaths and trees and mistletoe and Santa Claus and stockings and snow…" Nora seemed to run out of things to say, so she trailed off.

Jack looked up at her, his head cocked to the side. "Lewin…" he muttered. "Aren't you Jewish?"

Nora shrugged. "I celebrate *all* holidays! You could come over for Kwanzaa next week!"

"Holidays," Jack growled, "are a waste of time. Could you go?"

From the doorway, Nora turned and said, "Don't forget! Tomorrow at 2:00. Everyone's going to be there—all our pals! Abbie and Anita, Lennie and Ed, what's-her-face…the blonde who worked here before Jamie came back…Alex and Olivia and Elliot and John and Fin and Don…even Adam and Rey and Mikey and maybe even Ben!"

"And me," Jamie said from behind Nora.

"And Jamie!" Nora repeated gleefully.

Jack glared at Jamie. "If you want to be out of here before Christmas, shouldn't you be working?"

Jamie just rolled her eyes and wished Nora a Merry Christmas before going back to her dismal little cubicle. Jack turned back to his work as Nora cried out one last "Merry Christmas" before the elevator doors closed in front of her.

He released Jamie at 9 o'clock, and helped himself to the scotch he kept beneath his desk as he settled for a long night of legal briefs. As the hours stretched on towards midnight, Jack's thoughts wandered briefly towards Claire, as they often did. (Of course, since her horrible accident, subsequent slow slide into brain death, and actual death when Jack had finally pulled the plug, albeit through a haze of tears, he had become increasingly more bitter and driven to punish the evildoers of the world who had helped to kill Claire. The law wasn't an issue any more; after all, who cares about the law when there are evildoers who kill beautiful lawyers (and other beautiful people) to punish? Jack liked to remember that he wielded the power of God.) Finally, he picked up his pen and started scribbling again. Outside, the bells tolled midnight.

The elevator door dinged, and Jack looked around, realizing that he was entirely alone. Except, of course, for whoever was on the elevator.

Whoever it was came through the door moments later, and Jack stared in surprise.

"Ben Stone," he said.

(Ben and Jack had, naturally, been the best of friends before Ben left the DA's office. Their friendship was strained after Ben left because Jack had stolen the girl Ben had had a crush on.)

"Hello, Jack." Ben took a seat across the desk that used to be his.

"What are you doing here?" Jack growled.

"I have come to deliver a warning."

"What kind of a warning?"

"You, sir, are abusing your power. And you will be punished accordingly."

Jack gave him a look that made him look strikingly like poultry. "What are you talking about?"

Ben stood and loomed over Jack. "Woe betide you, John James McCoy, if you should fail to serve the people as you were meant to." (He was fairly certain this was the way that harbingers of doom were supposed to talk.)

Jack raised his eyebrows. He was particularly proud of this maneuver and did it often. 

Ben loomed further. "Within these walls, you have fashioned yourself as a god. And for that, sir, you will pay a grievous price!"

He turned to the window and pointed his finger. Looking out, Jack saw not the street, as he had expected, but into an office that he recognized as being that of the Public Defenders. Inside, he saw himself, surrounded by a stack of files, working hard on defending a spree killer. The real Jack shuddered in horror.

"That has been my fate," Ben said woefully. "And soon it will also be yours."

"You were a good prosecutor, Ben!" Jack cried. "How is that you have come to this?"

"I failed to serve the people. And you are now far beyond where I was when I left this place behind me."

Jack fell to his knees in the manner of drama queens and prima donnas everywhere. 

"Tell me how I can avoid this fate, Ben! You were always a good friend!"

Ben looked down at the groveling ADA and sighed.

"Tonight," he said, "you will be visited by three spirits. Heed them well, for it may not be too late for you."

Jack nodded nervously, looking more like poultry than ever, and Ben ambled out the door towards the elevator.

Moments later, or so he thought, Jack started up from where he was sleeping, his head resting on the open book in front of him, just in time to hear the church bells toll one.

"Weird dream," he said.

As the chimes faded, the office around him was suddenly flooded with light. When the light faded, Jack rubbed his eyes in disbelief. Claire Kincaid stood before him.

Claire was clad, in the manner of mysterious apparitions, in white. A long white flowing dress that showed off her curves—if the long-dead can be said to have curves—and her hair had grown long and curly in her absence.

"Claire!" Jack began to cry. (He did that a lot in relation to Claire. Like, when he visited her grave every single year on the anniversaries of her death, her birth, her graduations (from high school, college, and law school), their first date, the first time they slept together, the first case they'd won together, and the first day they met.)

Claire's ghost let him cry for a while, glancing around the office as she waited. Finally, in a gently angelic voice, she said, "I am the Ghost of Christmas Past, come to help you back to the path of Justice."

"Claire, please, tell me that you're well. Tell me that you're happy. Tell me that you miss me!" Jack cried.

"I'm well, I'm happy," Claire said, caressing his cheek and ruffling his hair. "I miss you desperately."

(In fact, she wasn't quite sure that she did, but it seemed like the thing to say. The angelic persona she had been asked to take on required such soothing language.)

"Come," she said, "I want to show you something."

Jack reached out eagerly and clutched at the hand she offered. Immediately they were transported to a cold, snowy street. 

"I know this place," Jack said. "This is where I grew up."

"Yes. Look in the window and tell me what you see," Claire said, secretly annoyed at the way her voice kept coming out all breathy and sweet.

Jack looked in the window. Beside a tiny, drooping Christmas tree, haphazardly strewn with paper ornaments, sat a small boy. He was crying as he gazed up at the tree. Behind him, one could hear the voices of a man and woman screaming at each other.

"Is that you?" Claire asked.

"Yes. I was seven."

"And did you come to a decision at that moment?"

Jack sobbed as he looked in upon his obligatorily tragic past. "I decided to help people like me. I was going to be a police officer and help children!"

Claire nodded, disguising a yawn. "And then everything changed," she said. 

She took his hand and they rematerialized (in an oddly familiar shimmer of blue) on another street, in another city, huddled on the fire escape of a nicely-decorated apartment. Inside, a younger Jack and a pretty brunette woman were helping a little girl to unwrap her presents. Young-Jack was laughing as the little girl decorated her hair with bows, and the pretty brunette snapped pictures. 

(It was all very Norman Rockwell for the 1980s.)

"Your wife and daughter?" Claire asked.

"Yes," Jack sighed. A tear appeared in his eye. Claire rolled hers. 

"You seem happy," she said. (Or, rather, whoever was speaking through her said. Claire was fairly certain that she wasn't coming up with these lines on her own.)

"I was…" Jack said slowly. 

"You loved Christmas, and it helped you to love them more."

"It didn't last," Jack sighed.

"I know," replied Claire's ghost (rather snappishly, actually).

She wiggled her nose and they stood in a tiny and slightly shabby, but cheerily decorated apartment. There they saw themselves as they had been during their second Christmas together, curled up in Claire's pink bedspread, her throw pillows and Beanie Babies, most of which had been gifts from Jack, scattered all over the floor. 

(Claire was almost positive that she had never owned Beanie Babies or a pink bedspread, but apparently she was doomed to see herself as Jack remembered her.)

"Remember that?" Claire-the-ghost's voice shifted from sweet to sultry and she draped herself over Jack. 

"Of course," he replied. "Our last Christmas together." Tears welled up in his eyes.

"And why do you hate Christmas now?"

Jack sobbed. "Because you're not here!" he wailed. 

"I am always with you, Jack," Claire whispered. "Remember that, and honor me by keeping Christmas, this year and every year."

"It means nothing without you!" Jack cried. 

Claire kissed him gently and when he opened his eyes, she was gone, and he was again alone in his office.

(Claire went back to wherever she had been before, and it was with relief that she chucked the white robes for a pair of blue jeans and a leather jacket.)

Alone…for only a moment. Before he had time to miss her, Jack realized that Lennie was standing before him.

"Detective Briscoe," Jack said, surprised. "Since when are you dead?"

"Oh, I'm not dead," Lennie sighed, glancing at his watch. "But my spirit was sent here to guide you as the spirit of Christmas Present. And you'd better be grateful, Counselor, because some of us do have better places to be."

Jack was beginning to think that this was all rather familiar, but before he had time to pursue the thought, Lennie had grabbed him by his collar and whisked him out the door.

"Take a look," he said, as they arrived outside a brownstone apartment. He shoved Jack up against the window. 

Inside, Jack saw Jamie and the back of a man's head (he assumed it was her husband David, but he wasn't really sure, since he couldn't remember ever actually meeting the man). Little Katie sat on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, tearing the wrapping off of her presents. 

The little family shared the gifts and a brief meal, then Jamie announced that Katie had to go back to her father's, because Jack had ordered Jamie to be in the office bright and early on the 26th. Katie cried, and Jamie tried not to, as they packed up the little girl's toys. (David was mysteriously absent.)

Jack turned, and Lennie hastily shifted his attention back to the attorney. 

"What will happen with Katie and Jamie?" Jack asked.

"Ah, I think Neil's gonna get full custody. But then Jamie will have more time to work for you," Lennie said, glancing at his watch. "C'mon, we've got to be somewhere else."

Before Jack could protest, Lennie dragged him off to Nora's holiday party. They stood in the corner, beside the 9-foot Douglas fir, flawlessly decorated with handmade blown-glass ornaments and real candles, as Nora, clad in a red velvet dress trimmed with white fur, with a big red bow in her hair, greeted her guests. Everyone was there, in couples and singly, except for what's-her-face, the blonde woman. But no one missed her. (Those who wish to know who was with whom, couple-wise, will simply have to develop prurient minds, as the Author hereby declines to comment.)

Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. The guests played all sorts of games, from spin the bottle to quarters, as Nora's CD player shuffled the greatest holiday hits of Celine Dion, *NSYNC, and Perry Como. (Indeed, everyone was behaving as if they were still in college, and everyone seemed to know each other, though no one commented on the strangeness of this. After all, weren't they all members of the Criminal Justice System? Of course they all knew each other.)

Jack bounded from guest to guest, despite the fact that they couldn't see him, trying to get their attention. He grew increasingly more irritated that no one would talk to him, though Lennie kept telling him that he was invisible.

Finally, Lennie looked at his watch again and dragged Jack away, Jack protesting in the most adverbial manner. 

"I haven't seen Adam yet!" he cried. "I wanted to catch Abbie under the mistletoe!"

Lennie ignored him and caught him by the collar again. This time, they found themselves in Sing-Sing.

"Take a good look around, Counselor," Lennie yawned. "Even some of these mooks are celebrating more honestly than you."

Jack did as he was bidden. Indeed, here and there one could catch snatches of "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer" and "Blue Christmas" emanating from the cellblocks. (Jack didn't know it, but a few others were celebrating…privately…in their cells, as well.)

"This is it for me, Counselor," Lennie said, and suddenly they were back in front of One Hogan Place. He heaved a sigh of relief and checked his watch one last time. "I hope you got something out of this."

"I don't want Jamie to lose her daughter," Jack said. "I don't really hate Christmas."

Lennie rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. It's not me you have to convince. It's him." 

Jack turned around, and saw before him a stooped figure covered entirely in a black hooded robe.

"I'm the Ghost of Christmases Yet to Come," said the apparition. 

Jack gave the spirit the poultry-look.   


"Adam?!" he said.

With a grumpy sigh, the spirit threw back his hood. "All right, fine. You got me. Let's go, Mr. McCoy. Places to go, things to see."

Jack stared at Adam for a moment longer. "You're Jewish," he said.

"Yeah, and you're a Grinch. Now come on," Adam said.

Adam led Jack into their offices. In Adam's old office, Jack gasped with surprise to see Jamie, older and with a bitter expression, sitting behind Nora's desk. A pretty young woman stood before the desk.

"But Mom—" the girl was saying.

Jamie held up her hand. "Katie, I don't have time. Go back to your father's. I'll see you in the summer."

Jack turned to Adam. "What's happened to her?" he asked.

Adam shrugged. "After you helped her to lose her daughter, she lost interest in anything related to her and threw herself into her work. As Manhattan DA, she's executed more criminals than the governor of Texas. She's running for governor of New York next year."

Jack shuddered in horror. He wondered if maybe he should sleep with Jamie. At least then she'd leave the DA's office.

Adam grabbed his arm and the office faded around them. They reappeared in a bar, surrounded by Mike Logan, Anita Van Buren, Rey Curtis, Lennie Briscoe, Abbie Carmichael, Ben Stone, and Nora Lewin. Jack looked around for what's-her-face, but he couldn't remember what she looked like, so he wasn't sure if she was there.

"So the old bastard finally bit it," Logan was saying.

"Yup. 'Bout damn time. I thought when Jamie pulled the plug he'd die, but no, he had to hang on," Lennie said.

Abbie raised her glass. "Good riddance to bad rubbish. But hell, he was the best lay I ever had!"

"Hear hear!" everyone shouted.

After a rousing toast, Rey asked, "What's going to happen to the body?"

"Medical research," Nora replied. "They're going to put his brain into a monkey."

"I'll remember to say a prayer for the poor monkey that inherits Jack McCoy's brain," Ben said. 

Everyone laughed, and continued the party to celebrate Jack's death.

Jack sat down and sobbed.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. Please, Adam! Please! I don't want to be a monkey! Tell me it's not too late!"

Adam scowled down at the sniveling prosecutor. "Only Christmas can save you, Jack," he said. "Claire told you to keep Christmas—"  


"And keep it I will!" Jack cried. He threw his arms around Adam and gave him a hearty kiss atop his balding head. "Starting right now. Merry Christmas, Adam!!!"

And then he awoke.

Sunlight was streaming in, and Jack looked around, confused. Finally, the dream—had it been a dream?—came back to him, and he leapt up, laughing. 

"It's Christmas! Christmas!" he cried, dancing around. 

He clapped the Santa hat Nora had given him on his head and ran out the door into the streets, spreading Christmas greetings wherever he went. (In fact, he was nearly locked up in the drunk tank, as he resembled nothing so much as a Viking on speed as he rushed from person to person, shrieking "Merry CHRIST-mas!!!")

He went to Nora's Christmas party and rivaled her in Christmas cheer. And at the party, he gave Jamie the week off and told her to spend all her time with Katie. His friends were overjoyed to see him so happy. (The party narrowly missed ending in a giant orgy. Fortunately, the eggnog was heavily spiked and everyone fell asleep before things could really get going. Nora never put so much mistletoe out again.)

On his way home that night, Jack bought a gigantic glowing plastic angel with real feathers in the wings. He set it up in his living room and sat in front of it, listening to his very favorite Celine Dion album. He fell asleep to the mellow (read: saccharine) strains of "My Heart Will Go On," dreaming of Claire in angel's wings, and with the resolve to keep Christmas everyday burning in his heart.(In the night, the feathers were torn out of the angel's wings and the halo ripped off. No sign of forced entry could be found. However, somewhere, someone or something who looked remarkably like Claire was grinning wickedly as she danced around a pile of burning feathers and a melted plastic halo.)

***

Author's Note: Happy Holidays, everyone! Thanks to Kyllikki for another year's worth of affirmation of both the alcoholic and non-alcoholic variety.


End file.
